


Blue Eyes

by br0wncoat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Recovers, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Reunion Fic, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br0wncoat/pseuds/br0wncoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started out as a little drabble about Christmas triggering some of Bucky's old memories, but has somehow turned into Tony adopting Bucky like a stray puppy and a flangsty reunion with Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The Winter Soldier is huddled in the doorway of a Brooklyn mom-and-pop, watching steam waft from a nearby subway vent. It's not even dawn, but the smell of baking bread is beginning to fill the air, and he feels something gnawing deep in his stomach. He lays a hand over his belly, wondering – has he been injured recently? - but then he remembers.

Hunger. It's been so long since he gave names to his wants and needs, so long since he was allowed them, but this one seems familiar. Hard rolls and salted potatoes, too few slices of sugared ham. A woman with kind eyes and weathered hands (“Go on, punk, take the last piece before you wither away to nothing.” “James! Don't be rude.”)

The storefront is decorated with twinkling lights, and all down the street trees are adorned with red and silver bows. It makes another feeling bloom in his empty gut, this one somehow painful and warm all at once. He remembers warm, thick socks wrapped in newspaper (“Sorry I couldn't afford more, Bucky.” “Shut up, Stevie, this is perfect!”) and sparkling blue eyes in a skinny little face.

He buries his face in his hands, letting the memories come. Mostly when he closes his eyes, he sees _bloodfeardeath_ , but these make him feel almost … content.

Sleeping on the floor next to the wood stove (because it was the warmest spot in the apartment, he thinks, better than the bedroom with its leaky window), himself and another young man in a pile of threadbare blankets. Taking one of his own and draping it over the shivering blond head, because he's genuinely worried the kid might freeze to death. Had that really been him? Two flesh hands, both so gentle. Caring for life, rather than taking it. Could he be that man - Bucky - again?

Two grown men in a tent in winter, huddled for warmth while a storm rages outside. Nothing but mountains and snow for days, and he can't feel his toes. Those blue eyes again, but this time the man is bigger, strong and warm. He wakes from nightmares and the man is still there, a lifeline. Where is that man now, when every moment is a bad dream?

He's come all this way like a homing pigeon returning to its nest, even though Blue Eyes had been back in D.C. (“It's Steve, Bucky. Don't you remember? Steve.”) He thinks this is where he belongs, where both of them belong, and maybe if Bucky waits he'll wake and find him here.

He's wondered a few times in the days (weeks?) since the helicarriers if it was even real, but something's wrong with his metal arm. If this had been a normal mission, if he was re-frozen and dreaming, they'd have fixed his arm. A broken asset is a useless asset. And Steve … he'd forgotten the name but he knows those eyes, like he knows how to breathe and walk, something deep inside himself.

So. He'll wait, and Steve will come.


	2. Chapter 2

With dawn comes a shift in the wind and the first few flakes of what promises to be a heavy snow. He'd found a newspaper yesterday, still rolled tightly in a plastic bag and discarded in the trash. Newspapers are for sandwiches and presents, and fuel in the fire, and somewhere in his brain a woman's voice says, 'Such waste!' The headline read _Arctic Blast_ , and he can believe it, though he remembers colder (thin ice, soaked boot and sock, his toes turning blue before a man with skin like coal manages to start a fire).

He's forced to leave the makeshift shelter of the storefront as the city comes to life, people in thick coats and puffy hats trickling slowly into the streets. He's wearing an oversized sweatshirt and gloves that he'd swiped from a laundromat, more to cover his arm than anything, and they do little to stop the biting wind. He can recall ditching his armor, though not where, battered and bloodied and most of all recognizable, though now he almost wishes to be caught. To forget or to remember, no more of this in-between. To know what to do and where to go, so lost in the absence of orders. To be warm, something that seems more like a dream than an actual memory.

He wanders for hours, down streets both familiar and not, and he wonders if that's his shattered memories or the work of decades of change. His shoulder aches and his nose burns, and he can feel his lips cracking at the corners, but still he walks. There's a kind of freedom in this aimlessness, both exhilarating and terrifying. There are people hunting him, maybe, but here in the half-dark with the sky matte gray and snow so deep even the cabs begin to slow, he feels almost invisible.

The Brooklyn Bridge looms ahead, and though he doesn't think it was on purpose, he's glad he ended up here. This, he remembers, iconic and enduring and the first time he's really felt something like home. (“C'mon, I'll race you across!” “Steve, it's over a mile. I'm not dragging your skinny ass back to your mama if you have an asthma attack and die in the middle of the bridge!”) He's pulled from his memories of stubborn blue eyes when he's nearly run down by a bicycle, and he's torn between wondering why the hell someone would ride in this weather and tamping down the instinct to attack. It's probably a good thing that he dumped his weapons along with the armor, or the intrepid cyclist might have a bullet through his skull.

He crosses into Manhattan, and even through the vortex of snow a building stands out in the distance, an enormous A shining like a beacon in the fading light. It's new, he thinks, because how could anyone forget something so big and ugly? He starts walking toward it, for lack of anything better to do. Maybe there'll be a nice entryway to hole up in for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a one-shot, because I already have another WIP, but I just couldn't stop myself. If anyone was hoping for something fluffy where Steve stumbled across Bucky and took him home, all I can say is you'll have fluff eventually. Also, I don't know if the events of Cap 2 were supposed to take place in April or whenever the movie came out, but we're just going to pretend it was closer to Christmas.


	3. Chapter 3

In the future, Tony Stark will say that when JARVIS alerted him to the assassin camped out on his doorstep, he was working on something mind-blowing that would change the course of the human race. In reality, he's got a screwdriver in each hand, hunched over a workbench and banging out a drum solo to _Painkiller_. It's possible he's a little obsessed, because it takes a few tries for JARVIS's voice to penetrate.

“Sir? Sir. SIR!”

On the last shout, Tony flinches violently, stabbing himself in the thumb with a screwdriver. “Ow,” he says conversationally, watching as blood wells up from the wound. “That's probably not sanitary.”

“Sir,” JARVIS repeats, sounding put upon, “it might interest you to know that the fugitive known as the Winter Soldier is currently making a nest on Loading Dock B.”

“Huh,” Tony says, sucking absently at his thumb. He slides his stool over to a monitor, pulling up the external video feed. No one can get into the building proper without a security badge, and access to the personal areas requires a retinal scan. Then again, considering everything he's read in the past few days (thank you, Natasha), a little concern might be warranted. He watches as the Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes, apparently; what the fuck?) presses his back to the wall, arms wrapped around his knees and hair hanging in a greasy curtain over his face. He looks oddly childlike, cowering under the small canopy and visibly shivering.

Tony sighs. “I am going to regret this. Any other time, I'd call the cops, or suit up and go out there and kick some ass, but nooo, Captain America's long-lost best friend has to come trotting up to my tower like a sad little puppy.” He locates his jacket, which has somehow fallen between the cushions of his ratty old couch. After a pause, he also snatches the fuzzy red blanket off the back. This superheroing gig has clearly made him soft. “Take a blanket to the assassin,” he mutters as he heads for the elevator. “At least he'll be warm when he stabs you to death.”

******

Bucky knows he's been modified. He's healed too fast, run too far, and lived too long for it to be otherwise. It's not quite what he remembers of Steve, who could recover from a gunshot wound in a day, but it's close. Despite all that, he's seriously worried that he might freeze to death. He's been sitting next to the ugly building for less than five minutes, and he's pretty sure there are ice crystals in his hair. He wonders, if he freezes to death, how long it will take someone to find him. How long after that until they realize who he is. As long as Hydra doesn't get their hands on his corpse, he doesn't think he really cares.

“Hey,” a voice says from the shadows, and Bucky jumps.

He tenses to run, cursing himself for not hearing the man approach, but the figure steps into the glow cast by a nearby streetlight and Bucky freezes in mid-crouch. The man has a hat pulled over his ears, but the dark eyes and strong features are visible enough and … “Howard?”

“Aw, for fuck's sake!” the man exclaims, throwing up his arms. Bucky can't hide his flinch, and the other man frowns. “Sorry; I'm sorry. It's just, of all the things you could remember. No, my name is Tony. Howard was my father, and this is my building you're cozying up to.”

Bucky squints. He can see the difference now, in their builds and this man's strangely complicated facial hair, but for a minute there … After all, if Steve is still alive, what else might be possible?

Tony seems to have kept right on talking while Bucky pondered the family resemblance, now babbling something about energy and superheroes, but he snaps back to attention when he catches the word 'Steve.'

"Pretty sure he still hates me, actually - can't say I really blame him - but he'd kill me for real if I let you freeze to death, so uh … Can we maybe go back inside now? Any longer and my lips are going to freeze, and if I couldn't talk I'm pretty sure I'd have to throw myself out a window. Again.”

Tony widens his eyes hopefully, and Bucky just blinks at him. Somewhere in there he thinks he got the idea that this man knows Steve, and that's good enough for now.


	4. Chapter 4

“Here.”

Tony thrusts a bundle of red fabric at him, and Bucky blinks in confusion. The other man sighs, taking it back and wrapping it around Bucky's shoulders like a cape. A blanket, he realizes. It might be the softest thing he's ever felt, and he tucks his nose under, inhaling the faint scent of chemicals. Laundry soap, maybe, but also something like engine grease and motor oil.

He follows Tony on autopilot, through a security scan and into the big building. They end up in a spacious lobby, all glass and chrome and brilliant white furniture, but tucked into one corner is the biggest tree he's seen since the Black Forest. It's decorated with gold tinsel and red baubles, tiny blue-tinted lights flickering warmly.

Tony's talking, he realizes, babbling almost nervously, “ … not really into the whole, you know, religious holiday thing, but Pepper said … “ but Bucky's overcome with competing memories.

Stalking a man through a hotel lobby, stars reflecting through a skylight and making low glass tables glitter.

A march through the forest at night, his breath condensing in the chilly air as dead leaves crackle underfoot.

“Bucky? Hey there. Bucky. Er … James? Sarge-cicle? No, that doesn't have quite the same ring … are you alive in there?”

There's a tentative hand on his shoulder, and Bucky snaps back to the present, aware that Tony has moved dangerously close. He wants to trust him, this man who knows Steve, but every cell in his body is shouting _danger_ at having another person so close. He takes a step back, and Tony smiles wryly.

“Sorry. You just looked like you were lost inside your head. I uh, kinda know how it feels.” Tony taps his fingers restlessly against his chest, his eyes darting everywhere but Bucky's face. “Anyway, we should … bed? Not like that, although you are rocking the grunge look, but I get the feeling you've been living rough. Actually, maybe a shower first.”

Bucky has no idea what he's going to say – he is, in fact, seriously considering running away into the night – but his arm chooses that moment to short out, and he jerks and makes an involuntary noise at the pain. Tony's eyes zero in on the arm, still covered by Bucky's clothes, and he transforms in an instant from manic to focused.

“Ah,” Tony says. “I read your file, and – well, no need to go into everything I read, but the arm … it's robotic, right? I could take a look. It's kind of my thing. I maybe should've asked if you were injured, huh? I'm sort of bad at” - he flaps a hand between them - “people.”

Bucky considers it. He's got to admit, he's not in fighting shape. He's no good out there on his own right now. Tony seems okay, and if he stays here he might see Steve. He nods slowly, then strips off the sweatshirt and glove and holds his arm out for inspection.

*****

Tony leads the way to his lab, Bucky following behind obediently, and he tries not to show his extreme discomfort with having a legendary assassin at his back. The thing is, though, he doesn't feel far off in having called the man a puppy. He looks half-starved and like he might bite at the slightest provocation, but underneath all the grime he's just young and afraid. Tony _had_ read the entire file, about the torture and brainwashing ( _and murder_ , some tiny speck of self-preservation reminds him. _Lots and lots of murder_.) and mostly he just feels sorry for the guy.

Judas Priest is still blaring in the workshop, and it's kind of hard to believe how much his night has changed in the last 15 minutes. Before, his plans had mostly involved some pointless tinkering and maybe Chinese, if he could find somewhere that would deliver. Now he's got Captain America's long-lost best friend turned Hydra assassin lurking uncomfortably near the door, his shiny metal arm making the occasional unhealthy whir.

“Have a seat,” Tony says, all false bravado, waving at the couch. Bucky sits gingerly, like he's afraid the cushions are going to attack him, and Tony crouches down in front of him, reaching slowly for the arm. It's … fucked, to put it mildly. There are a couple plates missing, and he can see bare, frayed wires, and he doesn't know who the hell designed the thing but he could do better in his sleep. “So, don't kill me, but I really think this would be easier if you just took it off. I could maybe fix it, but I'm thinking something brand new that won't break down the next time someone looks at you sideways. Also, it's really time to lose the Commie star, buddy; that's so 30 years ago.”

He stops for breath, afraid to tear his eyes away from the arm. If he's about to die a painful death, he's not sure if he wants to see it coming. There's a strange clacking noise and a grunt, and he looks up to see Bucky passing him the detached arm. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky wakes up disoriented. He's not used to waking up so much as being thrust painfully into awareness, and at first he wonders if he's on a mission. There have been times when a target evaded him long enough that even his body needed rest, and he's slept everywhere from the Ritz-Carlton in Santiago to a cave in Afghanistan.

The scent of hot metal tickles his nose, and he cracks an eye open cautiously. His feet are dangling off the edge of a couch, and there's a red blanket tucked under his chin. It's so warm and comfortable, and nothing hurts, and Bucky's immediately suspicious.

“Oh, hey, you're awake.”

Bucky bolts upright, the blanket pooling on the floor. There's a man backing away from him, arms upraised in a gesture of surrender. (Pointless. How many men have begged him for their lives, only to die moments later?)

“Uh, it's Tony, remember? Stark. That's my furniture you were snoozing on?” He says it like it's a question, as though he'd hand over the couch if Bucky demanded it.

Stark … for a moment, he remembers a flying car and dancing girls, but then the previous night comes back to him and he nods jerkily. “Tony,” he repeats. His voice is rusty and seems to startle Tony as much as it startles Bucky himself.

“Right,” Tony says, bobbing his head nervously. He's wearing a filthy undershirt, dress slacks, and heavy boots, and his hair is standing on end. Bucky feels his lips curve, though he's careful to hide it behind his own tangle of hair. "Sorry to wake you," Tony continues, "but I was starting to wonder if you'd dropped into a coma or something." At Bucky's raised eyebrow, he adds, "You've been asleep for something like 12 hours."

Bucky just gapes at him. He can't remember sleeping that long in his life (which isn't saying much, he supposes), and whatever makes his body stronger and quicker to heal also means he needs less sleep than a normal human.

"I've built you a replacement for the arm," Tony blurts out after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "It's not perfect, but I already have plans for the next model, and this one will do you for a while. Luckily all the parts that actually connect to, you know, fleshy bits were salvageable, because I haven't gotten around to that medical degree yet. So it just snaps on and off, sort of a like a really high-tech Mr. Potato Head."

He holds out the arm with a flourish, smile dimming when Bucky stares at him in confusion. "After your time? Don't worry about it, I'm starting to become an expert at this whole 'educating the man-out-of-time' schtick. I'll explain later."

Bucky hesitantly takes the arm (so light, holy shit), and his mouth opens without his permission. "Steve?" He's not sure if he's asking if Tony is talking about Steve or if he's trying to ask Tony where his friend is now, but the other man decides to answer the first.

"Yeah, Steve's surprisingly quick to catch on to technology, once you explain something to him." Tony snatches the arm back and begins setting it into place. "At first I thought, you know, he'd be cowering in a corner and lamenting the days of quill and ink or whatever, but the guy loves everything electronic."

Bucky nods slowly. They'd seen plenty of computers during the war, some that just held information, some that helped design planes, and others that could control bombs. He knows that his handlers taught him to use more modern versions, but back then it had been Steve who coaxed anything helpful out of the enemy computers, before Bucky happily smashed them to shit.

Apparently he's said at least part of that out loud, because Tony is grinning in delight. "I wish I'd known that earlier," Tony says. "We didn't exactly get along at first. I, uh, have this tendency to be sort of an asshole. But Cap, he sees the best in people. Even if it takes a while." He reaches for a screwdriver and does something fiddly to the arm, and suddenly Bucky sees his metal fingers twitch. "All done. Like I said, this is not the final product, but at least you won't be walking around all lopsided."

Bucky shoots him a glare, and Tony grimaces. "See? Asshole."

Bucky chuckles despite himself. He can see why this guy would be friends with Steve, because in a lot of ways, Tony reminds him of himself. Smooth and charming when he wants to be, but kind of a sarcastic dick underneath. He's quiet for a moment, testing out the new arm (goddamn amazing, not that he's going to tell Tony that), before he finally decides to ask the big question. "Do you know where he is? Steve?"

Tony suddenly becomes very interested in wiping the grease off his hands, and Bucky shoots to his feet. "Did I ... I didn't kill him, did I? I remember dragging him to the shore, and he was breathing, but ... Tell me I didn't kill him!" He doesn't remember reaching for the other man, but he's got his hands fisted in Tony's shirt, holding him several inches off the ground.

Tony slaps at his hands ineffectually, his feet kicking frantically in the air. "No, no, he's fine! I mean, I guess he spent a day or two in the hospital, but yay supersoldier healing, and Jesus, put me down!"

Bucky lowers him to the ground. "Sorry," he mumbles, backing away. His back hits a wall, and he sinks to the floor, curling his arms around his knees and trying to make himself as small as possible. He'd thought he was safe, that it was safe to come here, but here he is acting like an animal, manhandling this guy who'd been doing his best to help him. What if he'd hurt him? What if Steve comes back and Bucky hurts _him_? "Sorry," he repeats miserably.

"Hey, no," Tony says. Bucky watches his boots come closer until the other man plops down on the floor beside him. "I guess I should've said sooner. I called him while you were sleeping. He was in D.C. trying to put out some fires - er, metaphorical, although I guess there were plenty of real ones too - but he said he'd get here as soon as he could."

"He's on his way?" Bucky asks, aware that he sounds like a child but unable to help it.

"Yeah, Bucky," Tony says softly. "He's on his way."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some worries about writing Bucky this way. I've seen a lot of people write him as sort of feral, and some stories where he's totally competent and traveling the world kicking ass immediately after the events of Cap 2, but I wanted to explore him being traumatized and overwhelmed and just searching for something familiar.


	6. Chapter 6

“Maybe,” Bucky says later (he's not sure how long they've been sitting there on the workshop floor, but his ass is kind of cold), “you should lock me up. I'm dangerous. I think … I remember breaking a lot of D.C.” It's the most words he's spoken at a time in years, and he's a little surprised when Tony starts to laugh a bit hysterically.

“Sorry,” Tony gasps out between giggles. “It's just that you're not the first person who's said those words to me, and the other one sleeps in one of my guest rooms when he's not out curing starving orphans of Ebola.”

“Okay?” Bucky says, confused.

“Yeah, Bruce.” Tony lights up with an honest grin. “You'll like him. He's on his way here too, actually. I called him during your power nap. He knows how to fix all the flesh and blood stuff that I find boring, and no offense, but you look like you got hit by a train.”

“Hmm … “ Bucky hums thoughtfully. He's pretty sure he remembers … “Fell off of one, once.”

Tony tips over sideways laughing. “Oh man, that was priceless. Clearly you got all the humor in your dynamic duo. Unless Steve is just the straight man? So to speak.”

Bucky peers down at him in confusion. He hadn't really meant to make a joke, but somewhere deep down it feels good to have made the other man laugh. He thinks for a moment. The memories seem to come whenever they want and not when he wills it, but he dredges up flashes. A tiny blonde kid with a whoopee cushion, running away and cackling madly. Waking up with a mustache drawn on his face. His underwear in the ice box. “Steve's always been a little shit,” he says with certainty.

Tony laughs so hard he starts hiccuping, and Bucky feels a little of the tension go out of his shoulders. It's a relief to know he hasn't completely forgotten how to be a human being.

*******

Tony manages to find a bakery that's opened despite the blizzard outside. He offers enough of a tip to pay for both of the owner's kids to go to Harvard, and by mid-morning he and Bucky are sitting in his personal dining room, tearing into freshly delivered coffee and doughnuts like ravenous beasts. In Bucky's case, that description is almost a little too apt, as he has raspberry jelly smeared over his lips and chin, and, “I really want to make some kind of comment about the blood of your enemies right now.”

“Mm?” Bucky says, right as a glob of jelly rolls down his metal wrist.

He licks it off without pausing, and okay, this whole Hannibal Lecter comparison needs to stop right now. Tony shakes his head. He's not too proud to admit that he was pants-wettingly terrified when he first invited the Winter Soldier into his home, but the truth is he likes Bucky. The man is obviously traumatized and afraid, but underneath he's still got the capacity to care about other people, and he's surprisingly funny. It makes him wonder what Steve was like when he had his best friend around, and he finds himself looking forward to finding out.

“So,” Tony says, washing the last of his own breakfast down with a swig of coffee, “how long were you and Steve together?” No one ever accused him of having tact, but Bucky seems to enjoy talking about Steve, and anyway he's _dying_ of curiosity.

Bucky looks up from another doughnut, this one powdered and leaving a dusting of white stuck to the raspberry on his chin. It's equal parts disgusting and hilarious. “Whaddya mean?” he mumbles around his mouthful. “We grew up together.”

“Yeah, but, I've heard all the stories about what a womanizer you were. Even puts me to shame. So was that all a cover, or what?” Tony can't imagine Steve standing for his man openly cheating, but who knows. Different times, and all that.

Bucky fumbles for a napkin and wipes his face clean, all the while staring at Tony like he's an alien. “I don't … a cover for what?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “For the fact that you were sexing up Captain America. Jesus, are you always this slow in the morning?”

Bucky jumps, knocking over his coffee and toppling the chair behind him. He looks a little wild-eyed, and Tony has time to think _oh shit, I'm going to die_ before Bucky backs away. He keeps going until his back hits the wall, then just stands there looking like a cornered animal. Apparently Tony needs to rethink his assumptions.

“Why would you … I never … “ Bucky trails off helplessly.

“It's okay now, you know?” Tony says gently. Well, he tries to say gently. He's not really used to playing therapist, and has he mentioned lately that he's an asshole? He's so not qualified for this. “Two guys can even get married. You don't have to hide it. Not even in the military.”

“I never had sex with Steve!” Bucky blurts out, seemingly shocked out of his panicked silence.

“What, really?” Tony asks incredulously. “Why the hell not? I mean, no, that wasn't what I meant to ask, although uh, really, why the hell would anyone not? But I know for a fact you guys lived together.”

“Because we were poor!” Bucky sounds more exasperated than anything now, which Tony is willing to take as a win. He creeps back over to the table, righting his chair and easing into it. He's still looking at Tony like _he's_ the one more likely to snap and murder someone, here. “We could only afford a one bedroom, because Steve was sick a lot, but I never - “

“That doesn't mean you never wanted to, though, right?” Tony asks, and okay, he really needs to learn when to shut up, but he seriously can't get over this. He'd been so sure it was the greatest gay love story never told, and he's honestly sort of crushed here.

Bucky's face sort of crumples, and he looks confused and sad. Tony winces. Yeah, definitely need to learn when to shut up. “I couldn't … He's not … “ He fists his hands in his hair, tugging anxiously at the long strands.

“Okay, okay, “Tony says hastily, pulling Bucky's arms away before he can make himself bald. “Don't think I'm letting this go, but we can drop it for now. Listen, why don't I show you how to use the shower, and I'll dig up some clean clothes, and maybe by the time you're ready Steve will be here.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees softly. He's gone pliant and defeated again, letting Tony tug him away from the table and into the master bath. Tony gets him settled, then plops down on the edge of his bed with a gusty sigh. He's so petitioning for sainthood when this is over. In the meantime, Steve can't arrive fast enough.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky fully intends to take a two-minute shower. Growing up poor and then serving in the military, he'd learned to view bathing as something to be done as quickly as possible, and if the water was warm that was only a bonus. Tony Stark's shower, however, has some kind of magic power to override a lifetime of habit, because it is quite simply the best goddamn thing he's ever felt. It's so hot that his skin is turning red and the stall has filled with steam. He remembers sitting with his back against this very building, thinking he'd never feel warm again, and it's like a miracle. And the water pressure!

"You okay in there?" Tony asks, poking his head through the open door. (Bucky hadn't bothered to close it. He figures Tony's had plenty of chances to kill him so far, and if he does decide to change his mind and go through with it, well ... it's nothing less than he deserves, really.) "Not trying to rush you, just it's been like a half hour and I wanted to make sure you hadn't slipped and rattled your brains. Er, was that insensitive? That was probably insensitive."

Bucky tips his head forward, watching the water cascade from his hair. "I was in a waterfall once."

"Oh ... kay?" Tony answers. "And was that ... traumatic? Cause I get the whole fear of water thing, trust me."

"No," Bucky says, reaching for the shampoo. It's probably time to actually start cleaning himself. Surely even Tony's water supply isn't unlimited. "It was nice. Cold, but we'd been walking a long time, and we were dirty."

Tony comes farther into the room, and Bucky watches through the frosted glass as he sits on the closed toilet lid. "Yeah?" Tony asks. "During the war?"

Bucky takes a moment to think, scrubbing hard at his hair. It's in painful knots, but the shampoo is silky and smells of flowers and herbs. "I think ... yes. Steve was big. He kept dunking me."

Tony laughs. "The more I hear about your Steve, it's like he's a completely different person from the one I know. I thought he was just this grumpy old man."

Bucky makes a noncommittal noise. He wants to ask more about Steve, but he's afraid to hear the answers. What if it's his fault that Steve is this way? Is it because he was gone that Steve is so unhappy now? He starts scrubbing his body, grimacing as the suds turn grey. He's pretty sure he used to be almost vain about his appearance, and now he reminds himself of one of the tramps that used to camp out in Central Park. He'd look at the homeless vets with pity, never imagining that his own fate would be even worse.

"Are you ... is Steve coming here to kill me?" Bucky asks.

"What?!" Tony bolts upright, and Bucky unconsciously presses himself closer to the wall. "No, of course not. Why would you even ask that? You think I'd bring you here and let you sleep and eat and shower, just to have you killed?"

"I thought maybe ... there are rules about how you treat prisoners, right?"

"Jesus," Tony mutters, dropping his head into his hands. "You're not my prisoner. If you wanted to leave, I'd let you go right now, although I don't think Steve would be too happy with me. Believe it or not, you're not the only guy I know who did bad shit while brainwashed. No one who matters is going to blame you. We might have to work out the legalities later, but lucky for you, I'm extremely rich."

Lost in thought, Bucky finally shuts off the shower and climbs out, dripping all over the plush rug.

"Whoa there, soldier!" Tony exclaims. He covers his eyes with one hand and gropes for a towel with the other, thrusting it blindly at Bucky.

Bucky reaches for the towel, puzzled, then something hot blooms in the pit of his stomach as he remembers that normal people don't just stand around naked in front of virtual strangers. Shame, he thinks. Embarrassment. As the asset he'd felt neither; his body was a tool, and his keepers did with it what they wished. Now, he feels like little more than an animal, any sense of normality or propriety he'd once possessed long since stripped away.

"Hey," Tony says, his voice oddly gentle. "It's okay; I was just teasing. Nothing I haven't seen before. I guess the military kinda kills off the need for modesty, eh?"

Bucky looks down, realizing he's gripping the towel so tightly that his flesh knuckles have gone white. He recognizes that Tony has given him an out, that he could agree and move on. The asset was an excellent liar, but he thinks Bucky owes this man the truth. "No," he says, wrapping the towel around his waist. He watches water run from his hair in rivulets, pooling in the deep scars on his shoulder. The sight makes his stomach turn, and he looks away. "My handlers."

The words dry up, but Tony seems to understand immediately. His mouth flattens into an angry line, and Bucky wonders if Tony is disgusted with him, but the other man just shakes his head and says, "Assholes." He visibly struggles for a moment before asking, "Did they ever ... force you to do anything?"

Bucky peers at him in confusion, because they'd forced him to do a lot of things. Then he looks back down at his mostly naked body, and ... oh. "No. Just ... I was a tool. Use it, make sure it's clean, put it back on the shelf."

"Small mercies," Tony mutters. He looks at Bucky dripping all over his bathroom for a moment, then a small smile stretches his face. He grabs another towel off the rack and approaches Bucky slowly. "C'mere," he says, "flip your head upside down for me."

Bucky obeys before it occurs to him to ask why, and Tony steps closer, draping the towel over his head and doing something involving a lot of tugging and twisting. Tony nudges him back upright, and Bucky glances in the mirror to see that Tony's turned the towel into a turban, wrapped tightly and containing all his hair. He makes a small noise of surprise, and Tony's smile widens.

"Keep you from dripping all over the place," Tony says. "Now come on, I left some clothes for you on my bed. While you get dressed, I'm going to go call Captain Slowpoke and find out when he's getting here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this is supposed to be Steve/Bucky. And it will be, I promise. Steve's in the next chapter. I just found myself really enjoying Tony discovering that he does have a nurturing side. Plus I think Bucky's going to need a friend who can be a little more objective.


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky wanders into the connecting bedroom, where the pile of promised clothing is folded on the largest bed he's ever seen. The room is luxurious but surprisingly simple – dark wood and a deep red cover on the bed, which doesn't look like it's been used any time recently. He reaches for the shirt, blinks a few times to make sure his eyes aren't deceiving him, and begins to laugh. The sound is rusty and startles him a little, but it feels good, like an old friend he'd all but forgotten.

Tony had left him adult-sized Captain America pajamas.

He pulls them on, then returns his wet towels to the rack in the bathroom. (“Pick up after yourself, James,” a woman's voice says in his head. “I'm not your maid.”) They're soft and warm, and Tony might have been playing a joke but he likes feeling this connection to Steve. Also, they're very comfortable.

He follows Tony's voice to a room he hadn't noticed before, where there are several squashy leather couches facing what looks like a movie screen that takes up one entire wall. Similar to the bedroom, everything is attractive and clearly expensive, but unlike the museum vibe he'd gotten downstairs, it feels like a home.Tony's sprawled on his back, but he sits up when Bucky enters, gesturing for him to take the seat beside him. Bucky can hear another man speaking through the device held to Tony's ear (cellular phone, he thinks. He's used them before, though nothing so sleek), but it doesn't sound like Steve.

“ … telling you, Tony, I don't actually have a medical degree, and I'm not sure it's the best idea for me to be there if he has some kind of setback.”

“Bruce, when have I ever steered you wrong?” Tony wheedles. “Wait, don't answer that. Okay, you're the closest thing to a real doctor I can actually trust. Anyway,” he continues, glancing at Bucky's attire with a grin, “I really don't think you need to worry.”

“I can't tell you how much it _makes_ me worry when you say that,” Bruce answers with a sigh. “Anyway, I'm at the Port Authority right now. I'll be there as soon as I can catch a cab. If this goes wrong, it'll only be your own fault when you have to rebuild your tower for the second time.”

“Aww, Brucie, I knew you cared! See you soon.” Tony ends the call and turns to Bucky, who's siting stiffly on the edge of the couch. “So that was Bruce. I told you about him, remember - starving orphans, fleshy bits? He's going to come check you out. Turns out he was in Mexico this time, so he was able to come pretty quickly. If you're like Steve, you shouldn't be able to catch any diseases or anything, but better safe than sorry.”

Bucky nods. He can't remember ever being sick, though he must have been, _before_ , but he can picture himself sitting at someone else's bedside, a stockpile of tissues and lozenges at his fingertips, while a lump under the blankets sniffled and wheezed.

“I thought I'd wait to call Steve until you were here,” Tony says. “I'm sure he'll want to talk to you. You ready?”

Bucky freezes. Is he ready? He came here hoping to find Steve, after all, but now that it's come down to it, he's … afraid. He clenches his hands, nails digging painfully into his flesh palm. Fear is weakness; fear is not allowed. But if Steve hates him, if he is angry or disgusted, then Bucky has no more hope.

“Hey,” Tony says, poking him in the arm. “Ease up there. I've already talked to Steve once, while you were sleeping, and believe me when I tell you that whatever you're worrying about, it's not gonna happen. He sounded like all his birthdays had just come at once, okay?” He pokes at the telephone for a moment, placing it on the low, round table in front of them as it begins to ring. “I put it on speaker – we'll both be able to talk to him at once.”

The phone rings four times, and Bucky has just decided – with some mixture of disappointment and relief – that Steve isn't going to answer when the man picks up.

“Tony?” Steve says breathlessly. “Sorry, I just got off the plane in New York. I'll be there as soon as I can. Is everything all right? Is he - “

“Whoa there, Cap,” Tony says.

It's not quite the same voice he'd been using with Bucky, like he's talking to a spooked animal, but it's less jovial than his tone while talking to Bruce. Bucky wonders just exactly what happened between Tony and Steve, and how many facets there are to this man that he'd never have guessed.

“He's fine,” Tony continues. “Had a nice long nap, food and a shower – better than I treat some of my girlfriends.”

“Tony.” Steve's voice is thick with exasperation, and Bucky and Tony turn to each other with matching smirks.

“He's right here, Captain Worrywart. Ask him for yourself.” Tony gestures to the phone, and Bucky widens his eyes at him in alarm. “He's being a little shy.”

“Bucky? Are you there? I'm coming, Bucky, just … just a few more minutes.” Steve's voice cracks as he pleads, “Please say something, Buck.”

Tony nods at him encouragingly, and Bucky blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I'm wearing your pajamas.”

Tony cracks up, but there's a long pause on the phone. “I don't … oh!” Steve joins in the laughter, though it sounds a little wet. “The Captain America ones? I gave those to Tony as a joke. Well, they were part joke and part an 'I'm sorry for being such an asshole' present.”

“Oh my god,” Tony says theatrically, “did Captain America just curse? What has the world come to? Anyway, those pajamas were like two sizes two big for me, which is why Supersoldier Number Two here is able to wear them.”

“Eh,” Steve replies, “not my fault you're short.”

Tony makes an outraged noise, and Bucky hides his grin. It's going better than he could have hoped, and he wishes Steve would get here _right now_.

“Bucky?” Steve asks. “You still there?”

Bucky nods, then remembers Steve can't see him and says, “Yes.”

“Okay. I'm going to hang up, but I'll be there really soon, okay? You just … “ There's something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle, and Bucky frowns in concern. “You just hang in there.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phone Steve is better than no Steve, right? He'll turn up next chapter, and we'll finally have a reunion.


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky's been utterly still for the past 10 minutes, and it's starting to make Tony crazy. He'd cracked about two minutes in and started pacing, like his own movement could make him forget the statue on his couch. He's not sure what to expect here - he can't imagine Cap going the tearful Hollywood reunion route, and yet his voice on the phone ... He wonders if he should leave them to it, or stick around in case things go bad. He is sort of uniquely qualified in the 'everyone thought you were dead' area, but then he's self-aware enough to know he's the last person anyone would want around while dealing with emotions.

It's so quiet that he can hear the elevator slide open, and a moment later there are soft footsteps and a voice calling, "Tony?"

"Oh, thank God," Tony mutters. He realizes the absurdity of being thankful that the man who turns into a giant rage monster has arrived to help him deal with feelings, but the truth is Bruce is one of the most compassionate people he's ever met. If he can deal with Tony, surely he can handle Bucky. "In here!"

Bruce pokes his head in the room, and Tony can't hide a grin. The man looks like a cross between a hobo and a college professor (not entirely inaccurate, Tony supposes), with his fluffy hair and rumpled sportcoat, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Mostly he looks non-threatening, which Tony is supremely thankful for, as Bucky is currently giving off some serious cornered animal vibes.

"Hey," Bruce says. "Isn't JARVIS working?"

"Ah." Tony tilts his head toward Bucky. "I told him to keep it down for now. Thought it might be one explanation too many."

Bruce shuffles farther into the room, his body language relaxed and open. Bucky eyes him warily. "Hi there," Bruce says, holding out a hand. "I'm Bruce Banner, a friend of Tony's and Steve's. We were all on a team together a while back."

Bucky reaches for his hand, shaking so quickly that Bruce isn't sure it actually happened. He _is_ sure that he recognizes the look Bucky is giving him, and he laughs quietly. "I know, neither of us look like much next to Steve. Tony here has a flying suit of armor, and as for me ... well, let's just say Steve and I aren't so different as you might think. Anyway." He crouches down in front of Bucky. "I heard you might be injured. Can I take a look?"

Bucky shoots a nervous glance at Tony, who nods. "Let's go back to my lab, yeah?" Tony says. "I've got some medical equipment down there - I don't do hospitals -  and I've been patched up by Bruce a few times myself. I learned a hard lesson about blowtorches and sleep deprivation, let me tell you ... "

Less than 20 minutes later, Bucky is curled up on the couch in Tony's lab, the fuzzy red blanket back around his shoulders and a cup of sweet tea in his hands. Bruce had been fast but thorough, taking blood and X-rays and brain scans. He'd been so gentle that Bucky didn't know how to react. He'd flinched the first few times Bruce reached for him, until he realized the other man wasn't going to cause him pain. For his part, Tony had kept up a stream of babble, trying to distract Bucky from what was going on. Every time Bucky jerked away, he wanted to go put on the suit and pummel as many Hydra goons as he could find.

"Well," Bruce says, "it looks like your flesh arm was broken recently, but luckily it seems to be healing itself just fine. Better than fine, actually, which brings me to the next point. There's definitely a strain of the serum at work here, but it's not quite the same as what I've seen before. Your blood work looked normal otherwise, although I'm betting nothing would stay in your system long enough to matter. The brain scan showed ..."

Bruce runs an angry hand through his hair, and Tony can see him taking deep breaths. Maybe he should've gone for the suit after all. "The scans," Tony interjects, "show pretty much what your files said. Electroshock and ... well, we don't have to remind you. The good news is that along with healing broken bones, the serum seems to be working on your brain as well."

"Which is why," Bruce continues, "as Tony told me, you've been remembering some things. I can't guarantee you'll get all of your memories back, but I see no reason why they won't continue to return."

"Is that true?" a voice says from behind them.

Tony shouts and nearly falls over a stool, and Bruce resumes his deep breathing. Bucky is staring, wide-eyed, at the man who'd just entered the lab.

"Jesus Christ, JARVIS," Tony snaps. "I know I said to keep it quiet, but you could've warned me that someone was sneaking into my lab!"

"I apologize, sir," the AI responds, sounding affronted. "I was merely following instructions, and I didn't wish to interrupt your conversation."

Ignoring them both, Steve takes several halting steps into the room, his eyes fixed on Bucky. "Is it true?" he repeats. "Do you remember me?"

Bucky nods. "I remember ... some. I looked for you. In Brooklyn."

Steve's face crumples. "I thought you might go there. I was going to look for you as soon as I could leave D.C., I promise. I'm sorry I wasn't there." He takes a few steps closer and gestures to the couch. "Can I?"

Bucky nods again, setting down his mug and twisting the blanket in his hands. Steve eases down beside him, hesitantly reaching out a hand. When Bucky doesn't react, Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders and hugs him tightly. Bucky goes taut for a moment, then relaxes into the touch.

The last thing Tony sees as Bruce tugs him out of the lab is Steve, his face buried in Bucky's shoulder, repeating, "I'm sorry, Bucky. I'm so sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you do all those medical tests in 20 minutes? I don't know. Let's just say that in Tony Stark's lab you can.
> 
> I really wish I knew how to draw, so I could do Bucky in Cap pajamas and Tony's red blanket. Every time I picture that it makes me smile. I'm trying not to go too far toward making Bucky seem like a child, since this will be a romance eventually and that would be creepy, but I just couldn't help myself there.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky pats Steve's head awkwardly, then frowns down at his hand. Steve's hair is spiky and stiff, and Bucky is pretty sure that's not right. (Standing graveside, a head on his shoulder, sniffling quietly. Running his fingers through soft, straight blonde hair.) "Did you lose your ruler?" he asks hoarsely.

Steve tilts his head back to look at him. His eyes are red and shiny, and all of Bucky's instincts scream _fix it_. "What do you mean, Buck?" Steve asks.

Bucky pokes at the spikes. "Your hair. You used to have a part. Straight, like a ruler."

Steve laughs. "Yeah, a friend of mine told me I needed to get with the times. Bought me this jar of sticky crap."

"Smells fruity," Bucky says. He's not about to mention that it's kind of nice.

"Ah, well." Steve shrugs. "I've been assured I look hot this way."

He's smirking at Bucky, obviously teasing, but Bucky thinks _yeah, you really do_. He wants to ask if he was right in telling Stark that they'd never been together. He's almost sure, but Stark was dead right about Bucky wanting to. Had he asked and been turned down? It seems unlikely, from what he can remember and the way they're pressed together now. Still, Steve might not be acting like he hates him now, but he doesn't want to rock the boat.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asks instead. He's had more than one nightmare about dragging Steve's body out of the water, bloodied and battered.

"Am _I_ okay?" Steve asks. "You really haven't changed all that much, have you?" He's smiling fondly, and Bucky is beyond confused, because he's pretty sure he'd never tried to kill the man before. Steve must read this in his expression, because he adds, "You were always more concerned about me than yourself. Your toes would be about to fall off from frostbite, and you'd make me take the last blanket. I'm fine, Bucky. Promise. You remember how fast I heal? I'm good as new."

Bucky stares at him suspiciously. He's pretty sure Steve tends to be full of shit when it comes to his own health, even if he doesn't have any memories to back that up right now. He looks down at his blanket. It is pretty cold in here, and if it's his job to keep Steve warm, he's damn well going to do it. He lifts a corner in offering. Steve smiles radiantly and tucks it around the both of them, his head under Bucky's chin. Bucky breathes in the fruity hair deeply and feels himself relax. _Peace_ , he thinks.

*****

Steve waits until he's sure Bucky is sound asleep to gently disentangle them and make his way upstairs. When he steps into the elevator, JARVIS delivers him to Stark and Banner before he can ask. "Thanks, JARVIS," he says, patting the wall of the elevator. He's only been in the tower a couple times, but he's always thought the AI was pretty great. Actually the whole tower is pretty great (even if he still thinks it's ugly on the outside), and he should maybe tell Tony so. He owes him that and a lot more for taking care of Bucky. 

"Cap!" Stark says, waving him into the penthouse kitchen. "Bruce here was just talking about making lunch. He knows how to cook, thank God. I was gonna go broke bribing places to deliver."

Steve shakes his head. He's fully and shamefully aware that in the past, he'd have taken that statement as an excuse to think of Tony as lazy and spoiled. Now, after having heard how concerned the man was for Bucky and everything he'd done to help him, it's easy to see beyond the mask.

"I plan to try, anyway," Banner says. "Pretty sure most of the food in here is from before the Battle of New York."

Stark winces. "Yeah, I uh ... you might be right about that. Pepper was the only one who ever cooked."

Banner pats him on the back and squirms past him to poke his head into a cabinet, but doesn't comment. Steve, on the other hand, is confused. Had Pepper left? He was pretty sure he'd heard Stark and Pepper were a couple, and a break up like that would be all over the news. Then again, he realizes guiltily, he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to keep up on Stark.

"Pepper was your ... girlfriend?" Steve asks hesitantly. He half expects Stark to snap at him, but the billionaire just waves a dismissive hand.

"Was, yeah. One too many near-death experiences. We're still friends, and she runs my company, so it's not like we never see each other. Anyway!" Stark claps his hands together, very obviously changing the subject. "How's your man?"

"Sleeping, for now. He must feel really comfortable here," Steve says. He is not jealous that Bucky has gotten so close to Tony. That would be petty and ridiculous, and ... maybe he's a little jealous. Why hadn't he come to Brooklyn sooner, damn it?

Stark whistles. "Seems like all he's done is sleep. Poor guy's making up for a lot of rough years, I guess. You wouldn't think he'd need that much, being all supersoldier-y."

"So he does have the serum, then?" Steve asks. "I knew they did something to him in that factory, but he never wanted to talk about it." Steve can't say he blames him. He hadn't really wanted to talk about it either, what seeing his friend like that had done to him. Bucky would say he was supposed to be the strong one, but Steve had always told himself that he should've been there. Instead he'd been parading around like a dancing monkey while his best friend -

"Steve?" Banner tosses an armload of food on the counter and approaches him slowly. "You okay there?"

Steve looks down, realizing his fists are clenched. He must have zoned out. "Sorry, Dr. Banner. Just got lost in thought."

"Just Bruce, please. And I can't say I'm surprised. You've been through a lot lately yourself." Bruce picks up a box of pasta and frowns at it thoughtfully. "And yes, he does, although it's not quite the same as yours. If you don't mind, I can explain it to both of you at once, after he wakes up again."

"That's fine," Steve agrees. He holds up a can of tomatoes, and Bruce nods in approval.

"So, Cap," Stark says from the corner. Steve jumps, because he'd honestly forgotten the man was there. He's perched on a countertop like an overgrown kid, kicking his legs absently. "Are you planning on sticking around for a while?"

"You can call me Steve, you know, if we're all doing the first name thing. I know we got off to a rough start, but I'd like us to be friends, if you - "

"Yes, yes, okay," Stark says, waving his arms urgently. "Please, I've done all the talking about feelings I can handle this month. Call me Tony, we're all friends, yada yada."

Steve smiles, which seems to make Tony even more uncomfortable. Across the counter, Bruce rolls his eyes. "I'd like to stay for a while, yes," Steve answers. "If you don't mind. Bucky seems to like it here, and it's certainly secure."

Tony shrugs. "Not like I don't have the room. Now if it's cool with you guys, Barnes may have slept for two days, but I've been working." He jumps down from the counter and strolls out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Wake me when the food's ready!"

Bruce snorts and continues sorting the food.

"Little early for lunch, isn't it?" Steve asks.

"Honestly, I was just trying to keep his brain occupied before he could cause any trouble," Bruce admits. "Believe it or not, he's been really worried about Bucky. So, we've got a couple hours to kill. Are there any movies you've been meaning to watch?"

"Well," Steve says, "as it happens, I have this list."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Pepper, but to be honest I just can't see myself writing her. Also, I know some people get annoyed with het relationships thrown into the midst of their slash. That being said, I have no intentions of making this Steve/Bucky/Tony. Two people in a relationship is hard enough! I may consider Bruce/Tony, if anyone's interested in reading that.


	11. Chapter 11

The credits on the movie start to roll, and Steve wipes his eyes.

Bruce glances at him in concern. "You all right there, Steve? I didn't think there was anything in the movie that would bother you, but - "

"No, no," Steve says, embarrassed. "It was great! Sorry, I just got a little emotional."

"Really?" Bruce sounds incredulous, and Steve feels his face heat. Bruce rushes to add, "I mean, I know it won an Oscar, but I always thought it was a little ... schmaltzy."

"Some things become cliches for a reason," Steve insists. "It's about heroism and realizing your potential, about taking your best shot and sticking by your girl.* And I guess I have a thing for cheering for the little guy."

Bruce grins. It's the first time Steve has seen Bruce smile, and it makes him a little proud that he caused it. "So what else is on your list?" Bruce asks.

Steve pulls out his notepad and pen, crossing out _Rocky_. "There's another one of these, right?"

"Ah, I think there are six of them, actually," Bruce says warily.

Steve laughs. "Don't worry, I won't make you watch them with me. I appreciate you sitting through this one. I really needed the distraction."

"No problem." Bruce stands, clapping him on the shoulder. "What do you say we go check on Bucky, then I think it really will be lunchtime."

They head back down to the lab and discover Bucky still sound asleep, curled up in one corner of the couch. "He shouldn't be sleeping this much, should he?" Steve asks. "I only need three or four hours a night, and Tony said he was out for 12 hours earlier." 

"I can't say for sure how much he needs normally, but he's been through a lot," Bruce points out. He pauses, taking his glasses off and absentmindedly cleaning the lenses with his shirttail. "I know a little something about being on the run, always watching your back. Catching a few hours here and there, but never feeling rested. The night after the battle of New York, Tony let me stay here and I slept for a day and a half. There's something to be said for sleeping in one of the most secure buildings in the world, knowing there's someone you can trust to have your back." 

"But Bucky doesn't even know Tony," Steve says.

Bruce shrugs. "Neither did I, really. Sometimes you just know. In my case, we saved the world together. And Tony never treated me like a monster. He was more interested in my mind, even if he did annoy the hell out of me trying to prove it. I suspect that for Bucky, just hearing that you and Tony are friends was enough. He needed hope to cling to, and Tony gave him that." 

Steve didn't really think it was possible to feel any guiltier about the way he'd treated Stark, but knowing that Bucky wasn't the first stray he'd taken in, that Tony really was just a decent guy ... "I really messed things up."

"You mean the way the two of you were going at each other on the helicarrier?" Bruce asks. "Please, Tony gave as good as he got. He tries so hard to make everyone think he's a selfish asshole, because it's easier than letting people get close."

"You seem to know him really well," Steve says, moving to sit next to Bucky. He can't believe their conversation hasn't woken him yet.

"I visit now and then," Bruce explains. "I like to travel, but like I said, sometimes you just need somewhere safe to sleep. Every time I turn up, Tony tries to convince me to stay. I'll spend a couple weeks playing with whatever toys he throws at me in the lab, before I get restless and decide to leave again. I'm not much better at letting people close than he is."

"And this time?" Steve asks. He carefully reaches out and runs his fingers through Bucky's hair. It's soft and clean, and smells of fresh herbs. He looks so different, neither the old Bucky nor the Winter Soldier, but someone new and fragile.

"This time ... Tony has always had these plans to get the Avengers back together, did you know that?" Steve shakes his head, and Bruce continues, "He'll never admit it, but he liked having a team. This might be just the excuse we all needed."

Bucky stirs, turning his face into Steve's hand. Steve lets his touch grow firmer, and Bucky's eyes gradually open. "Steve?" he says. "It's cold. Did the heat go out again?"

Steve turns his face away, hiding the sudden sheen to his eyes, and Bruce moves into Bucky's field of vision. "Bucky?" Bruce asks. "Do you remember where you are?"

Bucky blinks, craning his neck to take in all the lab equipment. There's a flash of wild panic in his eyes before his gaze settles back on Steve. "I don't ... Steve?"

"It's okay, Buck." Steve keeps up the petting, hoping to ground his friend in the present. "We're at Tony's. This is his workshop. And this is Bruce, remember? He made sure you weren't sick earlier."

Bucky's eyes dart between them, then he seems to deflate in relief. "I remember. Sorry."

"Hey, you should see me when I first wake up," Bruce says cheerfully. "I'm lucky if I can remember how to get out of bed." He reaches a hand out for Bucky. "We were just going to see what we could throw together for lunch. You hungry?"

Bucky reaches out with his flesh arm, allowing himself to be tugged to his feet. Steve's hand falls from his hair, but he quickly wraps his arm around Bucky's shoulders. Bucky's trembling, from cold or lingering fright, and Steve isn't about to let him out of his sight. Bucky doesn't seem inclined to shake him off, if the way he huddles closer is any indication.

Bruce leads the way back to the kitchen, where the contents of the cabinets are still scattered on every surface. He surveys the counter with a frown. "I could do potato soup. There's canned milk, and - "

"No potato soup," Bucky says. Bruce and Steve look at him in surprise, and he huffs. "Steve doesn't like it."

"What? It's fine; I don't have a problem with ... " He trails off at Bucky's glare. "Okay, so it's not my favorite. When I was growing up, we'd have to make a few potatoes go a long way, and that usually meant stretching out a pot of soup for a few days. It was really bland, too, just potato and water, maybe a little butter if we were lucky. I always swore than when I was an adult I'd never eat it again." He tightens his hold on Bucky. "I can't believe you remember that. Even I had mostly forgotten it."

Bucky hides his face in Steve's shoulder. "Everything I remember ... it's you," he mumbles.

He says it so casually, the way Steve would point out that there's a bag of beans next to the sink. Steve closes his eyes briefly, clinging to his broken friend. He looks up and catches Bruce's eye, receiving a sad smile in response. No, he amends. Not broken. Just a little banged up. And the best part is, neither of them are alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This line is lifted from Roger Ebert's review of Rocky. I thought it sounded so much like something Steve would say, and I couldn't help myself.
> 
> The potato soup thing is based on my grandfather. He always refused to eat it, even my mother's version which involved tons of milk and butter, because he said he'd had enough growing up to last him forever.


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky has slept so much that somehow he's passed rested and come back around to groggy, but other than that, he feels ... good. He's clean and warm and not in any pain, and whatever Bruce is stirring on the stove smells so good that his stomach growls. Steve is right beside him - has, in fact,  not stopped touching him since they came back upstairs - and he's pretty sure Tony and Bruce are his friends. He doesn't think he's ever been so happy, even before the war, and that thought immediately makes him hang his head in shame.

Steve notices, of course. "Bucky? What's wrong?"

Bruce glances up in concern. "Are you feeling all right?"

That makes Bucky feel even worse, because he IS feeling all right, and that's the problem. What right does he have to be happy, after everything he's done? What right does he have to their concern? Why are they treating him like some innocent child and not the murderer that he is? He shrugs Steve's arm off his shoulder and does the only thing he can think of - runs away.

He bolts out of the kitchen, through the living room he'd barely noticed earlier, and finds himself faced with the doors of an elevator. An elevator with no buttons. He pounds helplessly on the shining silver doors, and to his surprise they slide open.

"Can I take you somewhere, Mr. Barnes?" a soft British voice asks as he steps inside.

Bucky jumps, spinning around when the doors close noiselessly behind him. "I don't ... who are you?"

"My name is JARVIS," the voice responds. "I am Mr. Stark's artificial intelligence."

"Artificial intelligence?" Bucky glances around, realizing that there are no buttons inside the elevator, either. What the fuck?

"A computer program. I run the household and help Mr. Stark with his projects."

Huh. Well, Bucky's seen stranger. And he does sort of remember Tony talking to someone called JARVIS earlier, though he'd been pretty out of it at the time. "Why are there no buttons?"

"This is Mr. Stark's personal elevator. I operate it for him, because, as he says, buttons are so passe."

JARVIS's voice is so dry on the last words that Bucky barks out a laugh. It does sound like something Tony would say. "I just ... needed to get out of there."

"I understand, sir."

JARVIS sounds sympathetic, which is just ... Bucky knows Stark is a genius, has the new arm to prove it, but this computer with emotions is something else. He briefly thinks that Steve must love it, but the thought of Steve reminds him why he's hiding in an elevator, and he sags against the wall.

"May I suggest the library?" The elevator starts moving without waiting for Bucky's response. "I think you'll find it suits your needs."

Bucky is deposited in a hallway, then directed by JARVIS to the appropriate door. He steps inside, expecting maybe a few bookshelves and an armchair, but ... "Holy shit."

"Indeed, sir," JARVIS agrees.

There _are_ armchairs, but they're a rich brown leather, grouped around a marble fireplace and sitting atop a large Persian rug. The walls are deep red, and the bookshelves and matching side tables are a gleaming mahogany. A chandelier casts the room in a soft glow, though there are small lamps strategically placed near the chairs. And the books ... Bucky can't even begin to count them, overflowing from the elaborately carved shelves and stacked haphazardly on tables.

"I remember ... I liked the library," Bucky says, running his hand over a row of spines. "In Brooklyn." He'd not had much free time to begin with, working every moment he could, and he'd always been a social guy, but sometimes he needed the quiet. It had been a refuge. And Steve ... it had been so hard to make him rest when he was sick, and so Bucky would bring him adventure stories, reading aloud while Steve half-dozed in his bed.

"Mr. Stark tends to prefer the garage or his lab," JARVIS tells him, "but he does enjoy a book on occasion."

Bucky's fingers stutter to a halt on a title he recognizes, and he laughs bitterly as he pulls _Jekyll and Hyde_ from the shelf. He collapses into one of the chairs, flipping pages aimlessly. "I always liked this. Thought it was just a monster story when I was a kid." He'd been reminded of it, he remembers, after that thing with Red Skull, when it had taken on a whole new meaning. "The human soul as a battlefield. Pretty fucking appropriate. What do you think, JARVIS? If you're Tony's computer, you know what I've done."

"I can't speak as to the human soul," JARVIS says. "But I would like to point out that Dr. Jekyll was consumed by his dark side, whereas you seem to be overcoming yours."

"Hm." Bucky grunts. "You're pretty smart, you know that?"

"I try, sir."

*****

When Bucky bolts from the kitchen, Steve is so taken aback that Bucky's already disappeared by the time Steve thinks to catch him. "What ... ?" he asks helplessly.

Bruce turns off the stove, wiping his hands on his pants and frowning in concern. "Something must have triggered him. You have to understand, Steve. It's remarkable that he's doing as well as he is; there are bound to be some setbacks."

"But we were just standing here!" Steve insists. "I should go after him. What if he hurts himself?" _What if he hurts someone else_ , some traitorous little part of his brain whispers, and he immediately hates himself for it. Bucky's done nothing wrong.

"He's fine." Tony strolls into the kitchen, waving his phone at them. "I told JARVIS to let me know if anything happens with Bucky. He's in the library, and JARVIS is talking to him. No breakdowns or murderous rampages."

Steve glares at him, but he can't really scold the man for saying what he'd just been thinking. "Does he know what's wrong?"

Tony shakes his head. "Sounds like he just needed a moment to himself. Don't worry, JARVIS will keep an eye on him. He makes a surprisingly good therapist. Come on." He herds Steve toward the table. "Let's sit down, eat, let JARVIS do his thing."

Steve glances at the door hesitantly. He wants to go after Bucky, but he has no idea what he'd say, and if JARVIS really is helping ... "Okay," he agrees. If Bucky needs space, he'll give it to him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a library in Stark Tower, because I said so. Haha. I like to think Tony has hidden depths, and it's not all bowling alleys and stripper poles.
> 
> Some of you may have noticed I started another Bucky/Steve story (I have no self-control!), but I promise I'm not neglecting this one. I'm actually finding that having more than one story going at once does wonders for writer's block.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve is halfway through the bowl of soup (not potato) that Bruce ended up producing for them when he thinks to ask, "You have a library?" Tony looks a little offended, and he hastens to add, "Not that I think you can't read! Genius, I know. Just, uh, I figured all your books would be electronic."

"Yeah." Tony stirs his soup aggressively, avoiding Steve's eyes. "They were mostly my mom's. I know it's not ... a lot of people just remember her as a trophy wife, but she was smart, too. It's stupid; I don't even go in there that much - "

"I get it," Steve says quietly. "I had this cross that my ma used to wear, just a cheap little thing on a silver chain. After she died, I kept it on me all the time. Carried it all through the war. I was never as religious as her, but it just made me feel closer to her." 

Tony looks up then, a tiny smile on his lips. "Exactly." He pushes his chair away from the table, all bravado again. "So listen, as much as I hate to admit that I don't know everything, I think we need to get Bucky some real help. I'm too much of an asshole, and you're too close. And Bruce here" - he gestures at the other man with his head - "probably shouldn't be around if there are any setbacks." 

"What happened to 'He's fine, Bruce, nothing to worry about'?" Bruce asks.

"I don't think he's going to spontaneously flip out and murder us, but I'm saying if we're going to go digging up memories - "

"What do you mean, digging up memories?" Steve demands. "He's having a hard enough time."

"Is Tony Stark actually suggesting therapy?" Bruce asks in mock astonishment.

Tony throws up his hands in exasperation. ""Yes, okay? Go ahead and mock. But he's down there talking to my AI about being a monster, and yesterday he just whipped off his metal arm and handed it to me like he was passing the goddamn remote, so excuse me if I don't think we can handle this alone." 

Steve frowns. "I don't think you should be repeating what he says to JARVIS. It's still a private - "

"For fuck's sake!" Tony snaps. "Can we stay on track here?" 

"You're right," Bruce says calmly. "But I just don't know where we'd find someone we could trust with him." Catching Steve's angry stare, he adds, "Look, we might not want to admit it, but there is still the possibility of Bucky attacking someone. I don't want to bring in anyone who can't handle him. Plus, he's still technically a fugitive, right? What if whoever we find decides to turn him in?"

"Sam!" Steve pops out of his chair, excited, because he doesn't know why he didn't think of this before.

"Uh, nooo," Tony says exaggeratedly, pointing around the table. "Tony. Bruce."

Steve glares at him. "No, my friend Sam. He works with soldiers at the VA, and he helped me out in D.C. He's perfect."

"Sam?" Tony looks confused, then lights up suddenly. "The guy with the wings? I'd love to get my hands on those."

"Do you think he'll come?" Bruce asks.

Steve shrugs. "Can't hurt to ask. But I think so. He volunteered to help Natasha and I when we were on the run. He's not going to tell anyone about Bucky."

Tony stands, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "I think I have that part covered, anyway. I just so happen to have the best lawyers in the world - " 

"Gee, I can't imagine why," Bruce says dryly.

" - and if ever there was a case for _non compos mentis_ ... All we have to do is play up the 'Poor Captain America's traumatized best friend' card, and we'll be golden." Tony jerks a thumb over his shoulder and starts backing out of the room. "In fact, I've gotta get back to that now. I've had Pepper talking to - "

Steve grabs Tony's arm, jerking him to a stop. "You told Pepper?"

Tony sighs. "I've never had anyone interrupt me as much as you two. You know, most people are dying to hear what I have to say!" Steve's grip tightens, and he winces. "Okay, okay. Of course I told Pepper. We might not be together anymore, but she's still the best person I know. She knows how to deal with all this ... human stuff. I don't intend to make Bucky's identity public right away, but if it happens, we need to be prepared. He's the victim here, and that's how we need to paint it. You two Boy Scouts might not like it, but believe me when I tell you that Pepper knows all about dragging reputations out of the gutter."

"Sorry," Steve says guiltily, letting go of his arm. "I just ... "

"You're trying to protect him," Tony says. "I get it. But so am I. Let me help."

Steve glances at Bruce, who nods slightly, then turns back to Tony. He looks vulnerable and hopeful, a complete contrast to his brash words, and Steve remembers that this is the man who took care of Bucky when he couldn't. "All right. I trust you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that in all my stories, people have important conversations over food. I blame this on being from the south, where everyone gathers in the kitchen to talk.


	14. Chapter 14

Tony hangs up the phone with a sigh, rubbing his forehead. He's pretty sure there's a part of his brain that's just been broken by all the stupidity he's had to deal with. He leans on his desk, pillowing his head on his arms, and considers taking a nap right there.

"Tony?" Bruce raps on the open door. "You okay?"

"Lawyers," Tony growls, like that explains everything. As far as he's concerned, it does. "Head hurts," he adds. "Too stupid."

"Have we forgotten how to make complete sentences?" Bruce asks, sounding amused. "You sound like the Hulk." Tony hears him move closer, and then there's a gentle hand on his head. "Here, lean back a little."

Tony complies, and Bruce starts massaging his temples. Tony makes a frankly indecent noise. "Have I told you that you're my favorite?"

"Maybe once or twice," Bruce says. "Everything sorted out? You've been in here a long time."

"Hmm?" Tony's eyes drift closed. "Oh, I think so. 's like a prisoner of war, yeah? Not responsible for his actions. More trouble to get him declared undead than anything. Er ... no, undead is zombies. Not dead. Existent. Help me out here, Bruce."

Bruce laughs softly. "I think it's time for you to go to bed." The fingers leave his scalp, and Tony whines pathetically. Bruce grips his bicep and tugs him from the chair. "Don't think I don't know that when you went to 'nap' earlier, you really just came in here to work. How long has it been since you've slept?"

"Dunno," Tony says, letting Bruce drag him from the room. "Before Bucky."

"It has been approximately 52 hours, Dr. Banner," JARVIS chimes in.

"Pfft, I've done worse," Tony boasts. It kind of ruins the effect when he yawns hugely.

Bruce herds him into the elevator and down the hall to his bedroom, where he shoves Tony inside and stands in the doorway. "Strip."

"Why Bruce, how forceful." Tony bends down to take off one of his shoes and nearly topples over. "Not that I'm averse to a little manhandling now and then, but I have to say this is unexpected. I had you pegged as more of a romantic."

"I see you've remembered how to talk," Bruce says dryly, giving Tony a push so he sits on the bed. He hunkers down and pulls off Tony's other shoe. "I'll break out the wine and candles when you're not delirious. These pants are covered in grease. Are you going to sleep in them?"

"Aw, you were sarcastic," Tony says, trying to pull his pants off with his feet. It's not terribly effective. Maybe he should invent some kind of pants-taking-off device. "I'm so proud."

"I feel like this is some sort of hellish nannying job," Bruce muses, tugging off Tony's pants. "With the cooking and checking for owies and putting stubborn toddlers to bed."

"I don't know whether I'm more weirded out by you saying 'owies' or calling me a toddler," Tony gripes.

"If the shoe fits. Come on." Bruce prods at Tony's leg. "Get under the covers."

Tony complies, and Bruce sits on the bed next to him, gently lifting Tony's head onto his thigh and continuing the massage. Tony melts into the touch, already drifting. "Definitely my favorite," he mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to take a little side trip for those of you who wanted the Tony/Bruce. Poor Tony's been trying so hard, he deserves something nice for himself. :)
> 
> Also, no offense meant to any lawyers out there. :p I have a law degree myself, though I don't practice. And speaking of law-related things, I'm not even going to try to delve into how this whole brainwashed assassin thing would play out. To be honest, I'm here for the feels and not for a courtroom drama, so we're just going to pretend that Tony's lawyers are just that awesome.


	15. Chapter 15

Steve cracks after a few hours and decides to go see Bucky. It's not that he doesn't believe JARVIS's assurances that Bucky is fine, but he needs to see him with his own eyes. It's still so unbelievable that he's alive at all, but to have come looking for Steve - to _remember_ Steve - it's like a miracle. 

Bucky's curled up in an armchair in front of a crackling fire. At first, Steve thinks he's sleeping again, but then he sees that Bucky is bent over a book, his long hair hiding his face. "Hey, Steve," he says without looking up.

"Hey." Steve perches on the arm of his chair. "What are you reading?"

Bucky holds up his book, turning it to show Steve the faded cover of _Captain America : The Unofficial Biography_. _Preface by Howard Stark_. "There's a chapter in here about me."

"I imagine there's more than one," Steve says. "Why are you reading that? You could just ask me."

Bucky shrugs. "A lot of this ... I remember, but it's like watching a movie. It doesn't feel like it was really me."

"And you'd rather take Howard Stark's word for it than mine? You might not remember him, but you have met his son, right?"

Steve's trying for lighthearted, but Bucky frowns at him in disapproval. "I like Tony."

"Yeah," Steve says quietly. "I do too. We didn't get along so great at first, but I'm glad you found your way to him." Steve gives in to the impulse to reach out and tuck Bucky's hair behind his ear. The hair actually suits him, but Steve hates not being able to see his eyes. Bucky tenses at first, then seems to melt into the touch, actually nudging at Steve's hand for more like a giant cat. Steve grins and combs his fingers through the long strands. "So what does your chapter say?"

Bucky flips back a few pages. "We met when we were kids. It doesn't say how, but I remember ... someone pushed you in the mud?"

"That's right. This kid ... Billy something ... he'd been messing with me every day for a week, stealing my lunch and pushing me down. That day I finally decided to fight back, and you came swooping in and stole my glory."

Bucky makes a little disbelieving noise. "He was a foot taller than you!"

Steve laughs, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. "I could've taken him."

"Sure you could've, pal," Bucky says condescendingly.

They'd had this same conversation so many times over the years, and Steve's heart aches to hear it now. This really is his Bucky. Whatever they'd stripped away or added on, underneath is that cocky kid who always saved him from the bullies. It makes him all the more determined to return the favor.

"Steve?" Bucky says, suddenly hesitant. He reaches up and gently grabs the hand Steve's running through his hair, his metal fingers wrapped loosely around Steve's wrist. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," Steve says.

"Were we ... I know they couldn't say in the book, even if it was true, but Tony asked me ... "

He looks frustrated, and Steve threads their fingers together and nudges his shoulder. "It's okay. What did Tony ask you?"

"Were we ... lovers?" Bucky ducks his head, whispering the last word so quietly that Steve almost misses it.

Steve nearly chokes on his tongue. Of _course_ Tony would ask that; he doesn't even know why he's surprised. "No. You always had a girlfriend; I swear you couldn't go for a week without a new one. You used to try to set me up sometimes, but it never worked out."

"Oh."

He looks some strange combination of disappointed and relieved, and Steve nudges him again, making Bucky meet his eyes. "Did you think we were?"

Bucky's flesh hand goes white-knuckled on the book. "I'm sorry, I just - "

"Hey, no," Steve says hurriedly. "It's fine. I just thought something must have made you wonder."

"I don't know." Bucky scrunches up his face, thinking. "I have all these flashes of the two of us, and it seems like we're always touching. Hugging or sharing a bed. And you're holding my hand right now."

His voice turns hopeful at the end, and Steve wonders if they're really about to talk about this. It had never even been a possibility back then, though he can't deny the thought crossing his mind. He'd never been so comfortable in his life as the cold nights he'd spent curled up with Bucky. And for those moments to stick with Bucky, even through everything ... they must have meant something to him too.

"I was always jealous," Steve says slowly. "When you went out with those girls. I never let myself think too much about what that meant. I was just happy to have whatever part of you I could get."

"No need to be jealous, Stevie," Bucky says with the shadow of a grin. "I don't remember any of those girls, but I remember you." He scoots over in his chair, dragging Steve along with him. The seat is huge, just big enough for the two of them to fit squished together. "Here, c'mon. I just got to the part where I decided to join the Army."

Steve squeezes into the chair, one arm wrapped around Bucky's shoulders. Bucky tucks his head under Steve's chin and starts reading aloud, and Steve feels himself relax for the first time in 70 years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is one of those endings that's also a beginning. There's a lot of work still to do - just because they've acknowledged their feelings doesn't mean Steve's magical healing penis is going to save the day - but it seemed like a good stopping point to me. This was only supposed to be the one chapter, and then it turned into Bucky recovering his memories, and now we've reached the point where he can start trying to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://brownc0at.tumblr.com/)


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